


You're a dumbass.

by yaldabaoth_the_demiurge



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Post-Chapter 1, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaldabaoth_the_demiurge/pseuds/yaldabaoth_the_demiurge
Summary: Miu Iruma has thoughts about her first class trial.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Iruma Miu
Kudos: 15





	You're a dumbass.

Miu Iruma has had enough of this killing game. Her boots clack against the stone as she exits the Shrine of Judgement and makes her way to her dorm room. Thank science that it’s not that far away. Her upper lip remains stiff on the walk there, and neither Kokichi’s faux-upbeat schtick nor Kirumi’s bitching and moaning about Miu “needing a shoulder” or whatever could stop her from her destination. Home sweet home, as assigned by a fucked up family unit of homicidal ursine-shaped toys. 

She could barely give half a shit about Rantaro—Seeing a dead body certainly wasn’t a fun new experience, sure, and it’s definitely not exactly cool that she can see his crumpled body when her eyes close, like it was tattooed on the inside of her eyelids or something. Rantaro was just… a creepy guy, who got offed. She predicted it, because she’s a genius, But… _Kaediot?_ That skank?

The best of those hapless fucks. The killer. No way.

She can’t fucking believe it. But with Shuichi’s explanation, and Monokuma’s fucked execution, it had to be the truth. It was reality, a theory as sound as gravity, or the Standard Model, or other shit she can’t be fucked to think about right now. If it was so real, why does she have… _Questions?!_ Why did she feel like she was rendered incomplete? What did that—that _whore_ do to her? Think, Miu. As the cogs churn and whir in Miu’s giga-sized brain, the first thing she thinks of is that time they met.

Kaede was the first person to have the fuckin’ balls to talk back to her. Kaede snapping at her was so… weird! Like, who tells _Miu goddamn Iruma_ ‘no?’ Even her mom knows better than to try that. But it wasn’t like a, ‘no, don’t do this, because I said,’ it was more like a… ‘No, don’t do this, because it’s bad for you.’

Miu pauses.

Who cares what is bad for her? She reasons, we all gotta die of something. Hell, she’d rather OD on some weird, fucked up, concoction of whatever-the-hell she can come up with in that warehouse than getting turned on by one of the freaks here. Kaede didn’t give a fuck. There’s no way, right? Right? 

Right?

...No, that’s wrong.

Her shoulders slump as she shuffles to the bed. As she flops onto it, lacking the emotional strength to lay on it like a normal person (not that she’d ever admit that to herself or anyone else), she screams into her pillow. This sucks. Kaede sucks. Miu knows this. She screams until her throat starts hurting, and then stops. Enough. Back to thinking.

Y’know… When she got down on her knees, and said that… that the group _needed_ her… That Shuichi needed her… That Kaede needed her… That felt good. Like, really good. Better than she had felt in days. She felt a warmth in her face, in front of her eyes, and a feather in her gut. She said yes, and pulled that all nighter, not for Shuichi, and not for the fucks in that group, but for Kaede. Because she was nice enough to bow to the Ultimate Inventor like a dog and _beg_ for Miu’s help.

Yeah. That’s it. 

Maybe that’s what fucks her up so much over it all. She’s not going to have another person that will tell her off for doing wrong one second, and act like they’re at Miu’s mercy the next. She’s never going to hear Kaede play her stupid fucking piano like she wanted. Yeah. That’s what’s making her upset. She’s never going to be able to scream at Kaede for these fucking butterflies in her stomach and lightningbugs on her cheeks. That’s what the issue is. She’s not going to be able to force Kaede to explain herself, why Miu couldn’t stop checking out the flat-chested wonder, examining every part of her stupid little outfit for even the HINT of a curve. Yeah. Miu’s never going to get to ask Kaede why she was stuck in Miu’s head, making it hard to think while she was making those cameras. Maybe musicians just do that. Like music, they stick in your head?

Ugh. She doesn’t get it. It’s stupid. Kaede’s stupid.

“You’re a dumbass,” Miu mutters, to nobody in particular.

She kicks off her shoes and rolls over. A brain as big as hers needs rest, especially after a brain teaser like that. Miu falls asleep in three minutes exactly. A new record.

What a dumbass.


End file.
